Monday, September 5, 2016

Whirlwind Romance

It is my great pleasure to host M.S. Spencer. I have read a number of books by this very talented writer and she always delivers with great characters, numerous plot twists and enough action (both in and out of the bedroom) to keep you turning the pages.

Thanks so much
for having Armand, Lacey, and me at your great blog, Mark.

I didn't mean to write this story. I meant to write a nice
romantic interlude set on Longboat Key, a lovely barrier island on the Gulf
Coast of Florida. Even before I'd reached Chapter Two, however, things had
taken a geographical turn and veered off into the western Caribbean. Even now
I'm not sure how it happened, but everything started to go awry when Lacey
Delahaye, my heroine, finds a bedraggled castaway in her mangrove swamp. Fine.
Not a problem. He's handsome, injured, and clearly has a secret. Could he be a
lost tourist? A real estate agent caught up in a Florida land scam? An
environmentalist who's discovered that whales have become man-eaters? No, sir.
With his exotic, dark looks (flashing black eyes, shimmering ebony hair, etc.),
he hardly seemed the real estate agent type. And he has an accent. Therefore he
comes from elsewhere. He eventually
confesses to Lacey that…well, I certainly won't divulge his secret. I will say
that he and Lacey find themselves in a remote, tiny, tropical paradise, which would
be very romantic, except for the vicious serpent lurking there.

Pirates, Puritans,
propaganda, and princes—pieces of the puzzle in the whirlwind romance between a
beautiful jelly maker and a mysterious castaway.

Blurb:

In the aftermath of a hurricane, Lacey Delahaye finds
herself marooned on an island on the Gulf coast of Florida with a mysterious
man. They are immediately drawn to each other, but before Armand can confess
his identity, they are kidnapped and taken to a tiny island in the western
Caribbean. With the help of her son Crispin and a cadre of loyal followers, she
and Armand must face down pirates, power-mad ideologues, and palace intrigue,
if they are to restore the once idyllic tropical island to its former glory.

Excerpt (G): The
Escape

Lacey
looked out again. “What’s the other castle, the one on the northern point?”

“It’s the
ancestral estate of the Proctors. The first secretary has always come from
their ranks. Edrigu is the current officeholder.”

“The first
secretary is like what, a vizier?”

“Yes. And
treasurer, chief steward, commander of the army—”

Lacey
stifled a giggle. “An army of one?”

Armand
looked down his nose at her. “For your information, our muskets still work, and
both Stefan and Luis are well trained in hand-to-hand combat.”

“Should it
ever be needed.”

He turned
grave. “I hope to God it never will be.”

It reminded
Lacey of their predicament. “Where is Ulisses, do you suppose?”

Almost as
if he’d been listening, the door sprang open, and Traficant entered, carrying a
coil of rope. “I have an appointment with a man named Damiano.” He put Lacey on
the cot and tied her hands to the bedposts. Dragging a chair to the other side
of the room, he lashed Armand to it. “Now stay put. I won’t be long.” He left.

They heard
the splash of the anchor. A little later, the sound of oars dipping into the
water told them their captor had taken the dinghy. Spread-eagled on the bed,
her arms stretched painfully, a familiar panic smothered Lacey’s senses. She
had never been able to stand having her arms pinioned. She laid her head back
and tried to relax, but her breathing quickened and hysteria washed over her.
She concentrated on the gentle rolling and pitching of the boat.

“Here, let
me.” Warm breath misted the back of her head.

She tried
to jerk upright, but the ropes pulled her back down. Her eyes wild, she opened
her mouth to scream, but a rough hand went over it. “Shhh, quiet, Lacey! You’ll wake the dead.”

“Armand!
You’re…you’re free! I thought…I thought…”

“Now if you
will kindly wiggle your fingers.”

Lacey did
so and soon felt a loosening of the bonds around her wrists. “How did you
manage it?”

Armand held
up his hands, free of rope. “Unlike American prep schools, Eton teaches useful
skills such as fencing and lock-picking.”

“I bet
you’re a big hit at parties.”

“As a
matter of fact…” He picked up her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers.

Lacey took
a deep breath, and peace flooded back into her body. “So, your degree is in escape
artistry?”

“Among
other things.”

She rubbed
her wrists. “What do we do now?”

“We get off
this boat.”

“You mean,
swim?”

“If we have
to.” He stood up and paced the cabin.

She stopped
him, hand to his chest. “You can walk!”

“What?” He
looked down as though discovering his feet for the first time. “Oh, yes. The
ankle is nearly healed.”

“But you
were limping heavily only last night when Ulisses took you.”

“That was
for his benefit. If he thinks I’m still lame, he won’t worry about our getting
away.”

“I see.”
She went to the door and tried the handle. “Locked.”

Armand held
up what looked like a needle. “Standard school supplies.” He fiddled with the
lock until the door sprang open.

“Why didn’t
you use that before?”

“And go
where?”

About the Author:

Although M. S. Spencer has lived or traveled in five of the
seven continents, the last thirty years were spent mostly in Washington, D.C.
as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor,
birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director, and parent. After many
years in academia, she worked for the U.S. Senate, the U.S. Department of the
Interior, in several library systems, both public and academic, and at the
Torpedo Factory Art Center in Alexandria, Virginia.

Ms. Spencer has published ten romantic suspense and murder
mystery novels. She has two fabulous grown children and an incredible
granddaughter. She divides her time between the Gulf Coast of Florida and a
tiny village in Maine.

Hometown Reads

Why 319?

Devious

Vanishing Act

Fleeing Beauty

Fade Away

Pages

About Me

Yes,
my name really is Mark Love. I am a Michigan native, who up until recently
lived in the Metro Detroit area, where crime and corruption always seem to be
at the top of everyone's news. So there's always the chance to find something
that can trigger a story idea and enough interesting characters to jump start
your imagination.

While I have worked in many
industries and career paths over the years, one of my passions has always been
writing. I was even able to parlay that passion for a while, working as a
freelance reporter for a couple of newspapers in the Detroit area. Writing
features and hard news helped me hone my talents. But while newspaper worked
was interesting and paid a few bills, it was a far cry from the fiction writing
that I enjoy the most.

I've always been drawn to mysteries
and thrillers, the kind of stories that have a fast pace, that keep you moving
and keep you guessing as to what's going to take place next. Mix those in with
some elements of crime, perhaps a glimpse of the seedier side and you've got
me. So it's always been one of my goals to write stories like that.